


Reunion: A Delivery Boy Interview

by diaphanous87



Category: Final Fantasy VII
Genre: Gen, I AM HAVING FEELINGS ABOUT THE REMAKE, No beta we die like mne, POV Second Person, crossposted to ff.net, everyone's favorite delivery boy is back, so many feelings
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-11
Updated: 2019-06-11
Packaged: 2020-04-24 18:26:09
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,043
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19178932
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/diaphanous87/pseuds/diaphanous87
Summary: It's been twenty-two years. It was mind-boggling. But you and so many others have waited so long to go back to that time and place. The story and the people who lived it, they became a part of your heart and soul. Time and again you've gone back to that story, felt those emotions.And now... we can hear it again, feel it, be swept away by it. We can all go back.One more time.





	Reunion: A Delivery Boy Interview

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Faeymouse](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Faeymouse/gifts).



> For Miss Pop, since we're both screaming about this Remake.

This was a golden opportunity, a once in a lifetime chance. You couldn’t believe he had actually agreed to meet with you, to let you hear about what had happened all those years ago even though it had already been published once. Had it really been over twenty years since the world learned his story? Unbelievable. You could barely breathe from the excitement.

Oh, you knew it all by heart already. How could you not? Everyone knew it, a mismatched group of heroes out to save the world. Isn’t that the usual formula? But this was different, this had defined a generation; he had changed everything.

A knock sounded at the door of your little house. With a startled squeak, you jump to your feet, nearly falling on your face straight onto your glass coffee table. Oh, that could have been bad. The knock happened again. You scrambled to answer the door. Patting down your hair, you swung to the door open. You fought the urge to gape like the village idiot.

“Hey,” he greeted. He awkwardly raised a gloved hand and waved. Oh no, that was too cute. But you had to contain yourself. Just because you were a big fan didn’t mean you had to squeal his ear off. You were sure he got enough of that elsewhere. Professional, try to be professional!

“Good morning!” You stepped back. “Come on in!” Whoa, tone down the cheer. “Coffee is brewing if you want a cup.”

“Water is fine,” he said, careful as he entered your home. You hopped back to give him space and closed the door. And you resisted the instinctive request have him remove his boots. You could clean later. “You mind if I set this by your door?” He gestured over his shoulder at the handle of his massive blade.

“Sure, sounds good,” you wheezed out, mentally smacking yourself. Sounds good? Seriously?! Dumbass. “I’ll get your water. We’ll… ah meet in the kitchen? Follow me?”

Your legendary guest nodded and somehow managed to get his sword off of his back to be propped up by the front door. “Let’s mosey,” he said, that smooth baritone voice washing over you. But that dorky phrase was almost too much for you.

You let out a nervous giggle and led the way to your tiny kitchen. His heavy footsteps seemed to echo as the both of you traversed your living room. The hardwood floor was going to have so many scuffs. Worth it. You gestured toward your kitchen table. “Please have a seat.”

“Thanks.” He gingerly sat on the plain wood chair that definitely did not match the other chair or the table. For someone of such an average height, he seemed to fill your kitchen just with the sheer presence of himself and his history. “I’m surprised.”

You paused from grabbing a glass for his water. You lowered yourself from your tiptoes and turned to look at him. The door for your drinkware cabinet gaped open above your head. “Why are you surprised?” you asked.

Bright blue eyes that still held the glow of Mako after all this time stared at you for a long moment. “That people are still interested in what happened. It’s been… over twenty years.” He diverted his unnerving gaze to stare at your scarred kitchen table. “Surely it’s not that amazing after all that time.”

“You’re wrong!” You clapped a hand over your mouth. Whoops, hadn’t meant to be so aggressive. The bewilderment on his face was endearing though. “You’re wrong,” you repeated softer. “You’ve been an inspiration even after all this time. We’ve been waiting to hear your story again.” You bit your lower lip and fiddled with the hem of your shirt. “Mr. Strife…”

“Just Cloud, please.” He drummed his gloved fingers on your table but stopped and pressed his hands flat against the table. “I don’t understand. Why?”

You clasped your own hands together in front of you. “You…” You let out a shaky breath. “Your story touched our hearts.” Cloud looked up, startled. Licking your lips, you continued. “When we learned your story, somehow everything that happened, everything that was, your story and the story of your friends embedded itself into our souls even. We laughed with you and cried with you. We mourned your sorrow and celebrated your victories.” You hurriedly grabbed a glass and filled it from the sweating pitcher you had pulled from your fridge earlier. Gingerly, you set the glass before your hero. You ignored the shaking of your hands. How did this turn into a confession about your feelings? You didn't know but you had the urge to make him understand. “Even after all this time, you are still so precious, so beloved. How could we not want to see you again?”

“But I…”

You shook your head at him. The fact that you have forgotten to grab your voice recorder and your notebook didn’t matter. Only Cloud, his friends, and their story mattered in the here and now. “Cloud, will you tell me your story?” You sat down opposite of him and waited.

His brows furrowed. “I don’t even know where to begin…” he murmured to the table. Cloud shifted in his chair, the wood creaking. The ring held in the mouth of his wolf head earring swung, catching the morning light coming in from the window behind you. From the tips of his spiky, chocobo blond hair to the Mako shine of his blue eyes, Cloud was just like you once imagined. It was wild.

“Start whenever and wherever you want,” you replied.

A few minutes passed. He took a sip of his water and cleared his throat. Cloud looked up then, the laser focus of his eyes trained on you. And then, miracles of miracles, his lips quirked up at the corners into a small smile. “There I was, on a train with the leader of a group called AVALANCHE…”

You settle back into your seat and listened. It was a story as familiar as the palm of your hand. A story you kept close to you even in the darkest of times. But oh, to hear it once again, as though it were fresh and new…

It was like coming home.

000

**END**


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